 | Scenes from Scripture with Other Poems |  |
143
HYMN OF THE MARTYRS.
“I water my couch with my tears.
“Mine eye is consumed because of grief; it waxeth old, because of mine
enemies.
“Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity, for the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping.
“The Lord hath heard my supplication. The Lord will receive my
prayer.”—
Psalm VI,6.
Lord of the Heavens! Earth's King of Kings!
Whose nature and whose name is Love,
Thou, throned upon the Angels' wings,
Saviour, in whom we live and move!
How long shall stream the tear,
That streams to Thee alone?
How long our bosoms bear
Their Cross before Thy throne?
Hear us, and help—Thou Holy One!
Whose nature and whose name is Love,
Thou, throned upon the Angels' wings,
Saviour, in whom we live and move!
How long shall stream the tear,
That streams to Thee alone?
How long our bosoms bear
Their Cross before Thy throne?
Hear us, and help—Thou Holy One!
144
For not with flesh and blood we war,
But with the mighty Unforgiven!
Their leader, once the Morning Star—
Their legions, once the sons of Heaven.
Even Thou hast felt their power—
Thou of the thorn-crowned brow;
The dark, soul-struggling hour,
The mockery, the blow,
The vast variety of mortal woe.
But with the mighty Unforgiven!
Their leader, once the Morning Star—
Their legions, once the sons of Heaven.
Even Thou hast felt their power—
Thou of the thorn-crowned brow;
The dark, soul-struggling hour,
The mockery, the blow,
The vast variety of mortal woe.
Yes! thou Eternal Majesty!
With bowed and broken hearts we come,
And humbled glance, and bended knee;
Pale pilgrims of a world of gloom!
Behold our altar-fires,
Behold us on them lay
Earth's dreams and low desires;
And long to rend away
Our robe of sorrow, sin, and clay.
With bowed and broken hearts we come,
And humbled glance, and bended knee;
Pale pilgrims of a world of gloom!
Behold our altar-fires,
Behold us on them lay
Earth's dreams and low desires;
And long to rend away
Our robe of sorrow, sin, and clay.
When shall we wear the Angel-crown,
When shall we wave the Angel-wing?
When cast our starry chaplets down
In joy before our Saviour-King?
Descend, all glorious One!
Be Satan downward hurled,
Be Earth no more his throne;
Be Death's dark banner furled—
Come, Monarch of Thy ransomed world.
When shall we wave the Angel-wing?
145
In joy before our Saviour-King?
Descend, all glorious One!
Be Satan downward hurled,
Be Earth no more his throne;
Be Death's dark banner furled—
Come, Monarch of Thy ransomed world.
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